nirbhao

there is a moment of sensuality

fabric moves over fabric over flesh

the bulging belly
the flatulence
they are forgiven

the udders
transition to teats
to a bosom

warm, nurturing, soft, and safe

there is a reason
what our fingers do
is called trespassing

the movement does not even extend to a second knuckle

it is a secret
even to ourselves
we are liars

even to ourselves

as I, worshipping you
am instead, airedale
both homely and familiar

the comfort is confusing

until the fabric
moves over fabric
over flesh

and for a moment

I am forgiven